


The Taste Of Metal

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, I just really love Loki okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:29:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hates the taste. It is cold and hurtful. Everytime he tries to pull it off, it just gets tighter and tighter around his mouth. He wants to hurl. He wants to scream, to hear his voice one last time. </p>
<p>(posted on wattpad under my old account, KindestOfKisses)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Taste Of Metal

He appears to be calm, accepting reality almost. But inside there is a war. He knows he is hated. He knows that he will never be trusted. Trustworthy is something he never could be, but he could make himself appear like he was. He could always make others believe his lies. But now everybody knows what he is.

A thief.

A liar.

A Trickster.

He wants to find comfort in what he is like he used to, but he cannot. Not today, maybe not ever again. It makes him sick, to catch a glimpse of himself. To see the way he is chained up. His hands are cuffed and his brother’s eyes are constantly following him.

_Let me out._

He can feel Thor’s pity and betrayal. He does not care, he never has. His elder brother always was sentimental, the fool. Did he not know what sentiment does to one’s mind? It blurs the facts in front of one’s face. It causes rash decisions, and the effect of such decisions is painful. Yes, he hates his brother’s gaze upon him.

_Stop looking at me._

It makes him want to puke. When he tries to pull off the human contraption, it gets tighter. It crushes his mouth and jaw. He wishes it would suffocate him, just to end the agony. They do not know they are punishing him in the worst way possible. He is a king of lies. To not be able to speak is torture. He is afraid to lose his voice once more. He is so very afraid that he may never be able to speak again.

_I hate you._

The metal mouthpiece reminds him of a much older punishment. One his brother had delivered. It had hurt so much. He just wanted Thor to stop. He wanted him to stop the pain. He wanted the needle to stop piercing his skin. He wished with all his might the blood would cease to run into his mouth and down his chin. He hated the taste of metal and blood in his mouth. He didn’t understand why his brother was doing such a thing, sewing his lips shut.

_It was an innocent joke, Brother._

He tried to scream, but his voice had failed him. What if he could never utter another sound again? Then what would he do? He was a prince, the rightful heir to the throne. If he could not speak, what good would that do to his people?

_Stop it, stop it!_

Take this metal guard off his mouth. He needs to breathe! He cannot do anything without his lies and trickery. He would be useless. That scares him the most. What would be the point of living a half-life? There is none. He would no longer be the man he is and was. He would be shallow and broken.

_Take-it-off!Take-it-off!Take-it-off!_

He needs somebody to help him. He needs someone to come and rip this metal cage off his mouth. But none will. Some stare and continue walking. Others smirk at him and believe Karma is doing her job. A few even have the audacity to take pictures. His world is collapsing around him, yet he cannot escape like he could before.

_I cannot breathe._

He wishes they would end his anguish. But not a soul will. He even wishes for a bullet to go through his head, to be free of the pain. He is about to beg for mercy, but his pride is too much.

_End this._

His brother says goodbye to his friends, as he is preparing to take him to Asgard; people just keep looking on. Nobody will come to his aid. They would do well to remember who he was. Loki: King of lies, Master of trickery, and God of magic. Their ancestors had worshipped the ground he walked on.

_I only wish to speak._

He would never stoop to their level.

_Help me._

He would never be as weak as them.

_It hurts._

They have nothing for him.

_Please, give it back._

He does not regret anything.

 

_Forgive me._


End file.
